Close to the water, Slater saw several different fires with warriors gathered around each one. It was as he had expected; they were a sizable war party. He counted twenty-four that he could see near the fires, including two individuals coming from the trees below the camp. He realized that there were more than likely other warriors that he could not see for one reason or another.
At any rate, he felt his job was completed. He had found the Lakota war party and had a fair assessment of their size and strength. He considered the prospect of remaining there until the war party was on the move again, but decided that he could conceivably find himself following them halfway up the Yellowstone. Better to get back to the cavalry patrol, he concluded, and tell Lieutenant Russell what he had found. Then if the lieutenant decided to go after the war party, it was up to him. He and Red Basket could go about their business and the army could go about theirs. That settled, he came down from the bluff and retraced his path across the river.
When he got back to the little island where he had left his horse, he decided to saddle him and put a little more distance between himself and the two dozen armed warriors he had seen. He moved slowly back up the river, until a three-quarter moon rose above the mountains to help light his way. With better light, he rode for what he figured to be a couple of miles before he picked a spot to make his second camp of the night.
* * *
It was early the next morning when Slater made it back to the site of his execution of the Indians who had slaughtered his Crow friends. A silvery mist still lay quietly on the river valley as he rode into the upper end of the meadow where Red Basket had made her fire. The somber Indian woman rose to her feet and came to meet him. “I make coffee,” she said.
“I could sure use some,” he replied, and stepped down from his horse.
“You find Lakota?”
“I did,” he said.
“I will roast some deer meat,” she said. “You hungry?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am, but first I’d best go tell the lieutenant about his Lakota war party. Pour me a cup of that coffee, though. I’ll take it with me.” He didn’t comment on it, but he thought it a little careless of the soldiers when he had been able to ride right into their camp without being noticed. He took the coffee cup Red Basket offered and walked toward the lower end of the meadow, where he saw Lieutenant Russell, Sergeant Bell, and a couple of other soldiers gathered around one of the campfires. “I’ll be back in a minute to take care of my horse,” he said to Red Basket as he walked away.
“Mr. Slater,” Russell called out in surprise when he glanced over to see Slater approaching. “When did you get back? I didn’t see you come in.”
“Didn’t look like anybody saw me come in,” Slater replied. “I reckon it’s a good thing it was just me and not some of those Lakota warriors comin’ in to say good mornin’.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Russell said, blind to the criticism casually implied. “Did you find them?”
“I found ’em,” Slater said. “They ain’t but half a day’s ride from here. They rode up in the mountains a ways to take care of their dead. Then they came back down and headed down the river again. But they stopped for some reason and made camp, and from the looks of it, they’re gonna stay there awhile.”
“So we could catch up with them if we march right away?” Russell responded. “How many are we talking about? Did you get a count?”
“I did,” Slater answered. “I counted twenty-four in the camp, but I reckon there could be a few more that I couldn’t see. As near as I could tell, a good many of ’em are armed with rifles.”
“Two dozen, huh?” Russell mused aloud, comparing that number to his fifteen troopers, all but one or two untested in actual combat with the Indians. He had not anticipated a war party quite that big, and the fact that most of them were armed with rifles had to figure in his decision. Frankly he felt their number called for a troop-sized detachment, but he also had to consider the need to attack the war party before they had the opportunity to raid again.
While Russell labored over his decision, Slater nodded to Sergeant Bell and said, “’Preciate you fellers lookin’ after Red Basket while I was gone.”
“Ha!” Bell blurted. “More like she was takin’ care of us. You didn’t have to worry about that woman. Ol’ Trask found that out. He went over to her fire to see if she’d be interested in spreadin’ her legs for a little money. Jarvis went with him.” Bell hesitated then when he saw Slater’s eyes narrow in instant anger. “Don’t get riled. That woman can take care of herself. Jarvis said she pulled out a skinnin’ knife and started to come at him like she was fixin’ to peel him like an onion.” Seeing the anger clearly in the buckskin-clad scout’s eyes, Bell immediately regretted telling the story. “Don’t be too hard on Trask,” he said. “He didn’t think he was doin’ no harm, just askin’—her bein’ an Injun woman and all. And she wasn’t nobody’s wife, or nothin’ like that.” With each word, the sergeant dug himself into a deeper hole.
“She used to be somebody’s wife,” Slater said, his voice deadly calm. “She was the wife of my best friend, Teddy Lightfoot. He was killed by that Lakota raidin’ party, and that’s why I killed those warriors. If that trooper had harmed Red Basket, I would have killed him.” It was a simple statement, but there was no doubt in the sincerity of it.
Reacting to an awkward situation that threatened to become dangerous, Lieutenant Russell quickly interceded. “Rest assured, Mr. Slater, neither Sergeant Bell nor I would permit any behavior of that nature to go unpunished. Trooper Trask will be dealt with when we return to the fort.” He cocked his eyes in Bell’s direction. “Isn’t that right, Sergeant Bell?”
“Yes, sir,” Bell responded. “I’ve already give Trask the word on that,” he lied.
Slater calmed down after a moment. Perhaps he had gone a little too far in threatening to kill the soldier, but it was not an idle threat. Red Basket was the only family he had, and he would have avenged any harm that came to her. Teddy would count on him to take care of her.
With the sullen scout seemingly peaceful now, Russell made up his mind. “Back to the business we’re here for,” he said. “We’re going to move against that Sioux war party. It may be the only chance to stop them before they disappear off somewhere down the Yellowstone.” His decision was influenced by a mental picture of himself, reporting to Colonel Brackett, his commanding officer, explaining why he had decided not to fight. He turned to Slater again. “I’m of course counting on you to lead us to that Sioux camp you found.”
Had it not been for the fact that Red Basket was with him, the decision would have been easier for Slater. He hesitated before responding to Russell. “I have Red Basket to be concerned with,” he started. “I don’t want to put her in any danger.” He shrugged indifferently and explained, “Their camp is on this river. All you have to do is follow it until you get there.”
“I know,” Russell countered. “But you know exactly how far it is, so we could move faster with you leading us, and you know when we need to be more cautious.”
“It’s just a short ride beyond a waterfall where the river goes under the ground,” Slater tried to assure him. “You’ll know that place when you come to it.”
“I’m gonna need you, man,” Russell insisted. “Otherwise we might blunder into their camp before we have a chance to plan an effective attack.” When Slater still hesitated, he said, “You help me get my men in position, and you and Red Basket can withdraw from the actual battle. Whaddaya say? Can you help us out?”
“Hell,” Slater snorted, exasperated. “I reckon. I’ll go talk to Red Basket.”
“Good man,” Russell said. He turned to Sergeant Bell at once. “Sergeant, get the men ready to ride as soon as breakfast is over, and that’ll be in twenty minutes from now.”
“My horse could use a little rest,” Slater said. “How ’bout givin’ me a lit
tle more time before we start out?”
“Hold on, Sergeant,” Russell said, then turned back to Slater. “What if I make it an hour? Will that do?”
“That’ll do,” Slater replied. The paint had really not been ridden that hard, but he wanted a little rest for him, since he was not sure what the horse would be called upon to do when they encountered the Lakota.
He returned to Red Basket’s fire and pulled the saddle off his horse before accepting the roasted strips of venison she had prepared for him. “You not eat enough,” she said as she refilled his coffee cup. “Teddy say you don’t ever eat enough.”
Her comment caused just the hint of a smile on his always serious face, as he thought about the tendency Teddy had had to mother him. It appears now that Red Basket is going to take over that job, he thought. “I eat when I’m hungry,” he said. “I ain’t gotta feed a body as big as Red Buffalo’s,” he added, referring to Teddy by his Crow name. While he ate his breakfast, he told her what he had agreed to do for Lieutenant Russell. “I ain’t comfortable with you gettin’ anywhere near the fightin’, so all I told him I’d do is find that war party for him, and you and I’ll head back to Greeley’s to get our horses. The soldiers can take care of the fightin’.”
Her eyes locked on his, a deep frown furrowing her brow, as she insisted, “I fight.”
He could not say that he was surprised by her response, knowing the depth of her devotion to the gentle giant who was his friend. He realized that she was as determined to seek her vengeance against those who had killed Teddy as he was. And even though he had killed almost every one of the war party that had descended upon the Crow village, it had not given her the satisfaction of striking the killing blows herself. A big woman, she was likely the only one suited to mate with a man of Teddy’s size, and she was like no other woman Slater had ever met.
Still, he felt obliged to tell her, “I can’t take a chance on you gettin’ too close to any fightin’ the soldiers run into. Teddy wouldn’t appreciate that.”
He immediately saw the disappointment in her eyes, and it occurred to him that she had been anxiously awaiting the chance to take her revenge ever since they joined the cavalry patrol. Still, he could not feel justified in putting her in danger.
“I fight,” she said again, but voiced no further protest.
“We’ll see how it comes out when we get past the falls,” he conceded, still planning to do no more than what he had committed to do for the lieutenant. “We’ll pull outta here in about an hour, so you’ve got plenty of time to pack up.”
He settled back then and ate the meat she had cooked for him.
Chapter 6
The cavalry patrol moved out, led by the rangy buckskin-clad scout with the sullen Crow woman leading the packhorse close behind him. Making their way along the narrow river valley, they rode until noon when the lieutenant called for a break to rest the horses and eat the noontime meal.
Back in the saddle after a brief respite, they pushed on until coming to the double falls and natural bridge, where Slater pulled up and waited for Russell to catch up to him and Red Basket.
“Are we close?” Russell asked.
“Not yet,” Slater said. “I’d say we’re five miles or so, but I thought I’d give you an idea of how far you’ve got to go, in case you wanted to rest your soldiers and horses. I expect after we ride a couple of miles farther, you might wanna tell your men to quiet down as much as they can, in case somebody might be listenin’. ’Cause somebody might.”
“Right,” Russell said. “I don’t think it’s necessary to stop, but I’ll give the order to quiet down now.” He started to turn back to relay the order to Sergeant Bell, but hesitated to ask, “Would you like me to take Red Basket back to the rear of the column now?”
“I reckon not,” Slater said. “I’d rather she stay with me.” He wanted to have Red Basket where he could protect her, but there was another reason. He figured that if they might blunder into an ambush, the Indians would most likely let the whole column pass before they closed the trap behind them. If Red Basket was riding at the tail end of the column, she might be the first to get hit. The front of the column would be under fire, too, but he felt their chances to fight were better at the head.
They pushed on past the point where the river seemed to sink into the ground. When within a mile or so of the Sioux camp, Slater rode on about a hundred and fifty yards ahead of the column. Alert for any sign of Lakota hunters or scouts, he proceeded cautiously as he neared the site of the camp.
When he had found it the night before, he crossed the river to get a better look so he could count the warriors. It was unnecessary to do so now, for he knew how the camp lay. He left the trail by the river and made his way up through the trees on the ridge above the meadow until reaching a point high enough to see down into it.
The meadow was empty. The Indians were gone.
* * *
Although he did not voice it, Lieutenant Russell was not overly disappointed to hear that the Indians were no longer encamped, still thinking about the size of the war party.
“Well, I guess we’re just a little too late. They’ve evidently moved on back to the Yellowstone Valley. I could push on, but we’ve already been out longer than we had planned, so we’ll head on back to Fort Ellis before what little supplies we’ve got left are exhausted.”
“I reckon we’ll ride out to the Yellowstone with you,” Slater said. “Then Red Basket and I will ride on down to Greeley’s to pick up our horses, and we’ll go to Fort Ellis from there.”
Russell dismounted and called to Sergeant Bell, who was looking over the abandoned Sioux camp. “Sergeant, we’ll rest the horses here before we start back to the fort. The men can build fires if they want to make some coffee—if they’ve still got any. But I don’t plan to stay any longer than it takes to rest the horses.”
* * *
The bodies of Black Arrow and Fights With Lance had been found no more than thirty yards apart. Both had been lodged against boulders on opposite sides of the river just before the valley began to widen.
Thinking it important to lay the bodies to rest with those of their brothers who had been killed by White Crow, Iron Pony and his warriors returned to the burial ground high on the mountainside. The two platforms that had been constructed for his brother and Fights With Lance were now no longer empty, and he returned his mind to concentrate on the vengeance he so passionately needed. His thoughts were interrupted when Medicine Hat came to stand beside him.
“It is done,” Medicine Hat said. “Black Arrow and Fights With Lance are at rest with their brothers. Maybe we should return to our village now. We have been away for a long time.”
Iron Pony scowled in response, making no attempt to hide his irritation with Medicine Hat’s dogged attempts to dissuade his determination to find the one they called White Crow. Iron Pony knew that some of the other warriors were of the same mind as Medicine Hat, even to the point of questioning Iron Pony’s power as their war chief. “Would you counsel me to leave our dead without revenge?”
“Some of us think it is a bad sign that we have lost thirteen of our warriors since we came to these mountains,” Medicine Hat said. “Maybe we should have continued our raids in the valley where our medicine was strong. Maybe our medicine is not strong in these mountains because the time is not right. So maybe it would be good to return to our village to make our medicine strong again. That is all I want to say.”
Iron Pony was about to respond in anger when the discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Angry Bear pressing his pony hard up the steep trail below them. “Soldiers!” Angry Bear called out excitedly as he slid off his laboring horse. His alarm brought all the warriors to surround him.
“Where?” Iron Pony demanded.
“On the path below, following the river,” Angry Bear replied. “They are almost at the place where we camped last
night.”
“How many soldiers?” Medicine Hat asked.
“I counted fifteen and a war chief, but there were two more with them.” Angry Bear paused then, anticipating Iron Pony’s reaction to his next statement. “There was a white scout and an Indian woman leading them.”
“White Crow!” Iron Pony gasped. “It is the white Crow!” His mind was racing, already assuming it could be no other than White Crow. “With only fifteen soldiers,” he said, relishing the two-to-one odds his warriors would have. “Our medicine is strong. We are called to avenge our brothers we leave here, to find this demon, White Crow, and Wakan Tanka has brought him to us.” The reaction from his warriors told him that they believed in him again.
The always cautious Medicine Hat asked a question, however. “How can we know if the scout with the soldiers is White Crow?”
“I would know,” young Striped Otter spoke up.
“Yes!” Iron Pony exclaimed. “Striped Otter will know. But even if it is not the white demon, it is still a chance to kill the soldiers while they are outnumbered. It will be a great chance to get more weapons and ammunition. We must plan our attack so they will not know we are about to strike. First, we must be sure where they are going so we can set up an ambush. Angry Bear and Little Paw, go and see if they are still where we camped.” Then, remembering, he said, “Striped Otter, go with them so you can tell us if it is White Crow with them.”
Acting immediately, the three scouts set out down the steep trail by the creek, hurrying to overtake the unsuspecting cavalry patrol. The rest of the war party ran to their horses as well, preparing to follow close behind the scouts.
* * *
Slater could understand Lieutenant Russell’s assumption that the Lakota war party had had no plans to remain in the Boulder River Valley. There were no farms on that wild river through the Absaroka and Beartooth mountains, and no land suitable for farming until leaving the mountains about sixteen miles south of the river’s confluence with the Yellowstone. So there were no settlers in that section to serve as targets for the Sioux raiders. While a couple of the soldiers tended to two fires they had built to boil their coffee, he walked downriver to the lower end of the meadow to confirm the lieutenant’s assumption, as well as his own. There would be tracks showing where the Indians had left the meadow.
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